I scroll through the messages. Work updates. Bills. Spam.
Then I see it. An email from the clinic. It was sent last week.
Appointment Reminder: Heat Suppression Shot.
It sits there, unopened. Buried under a flood of emails from the county assessor and the lumber yard.
“I missed it,” I whisper. “I missed the email.”
My heart drops into my stomach. I missed the shot. With everything—the storm, the men, the fines, the sabotage—I forgot.
I look at Pearl and Dot. The realization hits me like a physical blow.
“I think I’m going into heat,” I say, my voice shaking.
Pearl doesn’t blink. “Okay. Don’t panic.”
“How can I not panic?” I cry out. “I’m on the edge of a heat cycle. I’m surrounded by three unmated Alphas who are living in my house! This is a disaster!”
“It’s not a disaster,” Dot says. “It’s biology.”
“It’s a disaster!” I snap. “I can’t control it. I can’t organize it! My brain is going to short-circuit!”
My OCD kicks into high gear. The room feels too bright. The coffee cup on the table is not centered with the placemat. The label on the sugar jar is crooked. I need to fix it. I need to organize something, anything, to regain control.
I stand up to straighten the sugar jar.
“Sara,” Pearl says, grabbing my hand. “Breathe.”
“I can’t!” I say, pulling away. “I need to call Brenda. I need to get an appointment immediately.”
I dial my assistant. It rings four times before she picks up.
“Saramaria? Where have you been?”
“Brenda, I missed the shot. The email got buried. I think I’m pre-heat. I need an appointment.”
“Oh,” Brenda says. “That explains the mood swings.”
“Brenda, please.”
“I can get you in tomorrow morning,” she says. “Dr. Wyatt has a cancellation. But... Saramaria, you might need to take precautions. If it hits tonight, you might want to isolate yourself.”
Isolate myself. Go back to the ranch and hide in my room? While three Alphas are wandering around?
“No,” I say. “I can’t go home. Not yet.”
I hang up. I lean against the counter, my head in my hands. The fever is rising. I can feel it. A low, throbbing heat building low in my belly.
“I need a cold compress,” I say, my voice weak.
“Josie, get a cloth,” Pearl orders.
Josie disappears into the kitchen and returns with a wet towel.
“Here,” Pearl says, pressing it to the back of my neck. “This will help.”
I lean into the cold. It feels good. It doesn’t fix it, but it dampens the fire.
